Familiar ...

Sunrise at home. As I hung out of the window in this chilly morning to take a photo of the sun coming up - much later than it has been - over Gourock, I told myself how lucky I am to live here, with this view as soon as I open my eyes. I needed that telling: it was just after 7am and I was off to the supermarket for the shopping that always seems absurdly big after a holiday. It's become - vile phrase - my new normal: up, dressed and out before I have time to think.

Thinking was, however, necessary in the supermarket. There were two couples - two! At eight in the morning! - blocking the aisles as they debated the finer points of own-brand marmalade and whether it was silly to buy pasta. (I suspect they were doing a little bit of panic buying, in a genteel sort of way.) They were all about my own age, and both of the men were of the hapless variety who merely stooge along behind with the trolley while their wives burrowed and darted - and paid not a heed to the concept of social distancing. Whew. That's better. Rant over.

Breakfast while Mr PB unpacks and puts away the messages is always a luxury; today I followed it up with a strengthening coffee before the trip over to my hairdresser in Greenock. The timing of this meant that I didn't have any lunch; the mask-wearing in the salon meant I didn't even have a drink till I was out again. However, I did manage to rustle up the strength when I got home to go out along the lane and savage some rampant buddleia plants that had increasingly been scratching the car as we passed them. 

In a final burst of resolve I tinkered with Sunday's sermon - it needed a bit more in the middle. I think it may be finished now.

As am I. Again. All this raging first thing in the morning is very draining ...